This is the moment of bitterness.

I've been seeing a therapist for quite a while now. One of my main goals is/was to not become a bitter old woman. I see lots of older people who have that crotchety bitter attitude and I don't want to live that way. But, I am at that moment. I sit here, in the last 15 minutes of 2025, writing this, and alone. 

Loneliness sucks. It's awful, and it's bitter because I don't want to be alone. I want someone or someones to hug and kiss and say 'happy new year!' when the clock strikes midnight. I want that. And I feel totally abandoned, with tears in my eyes as I type this, and that abandon-er is NOT alone. He is with friends, possibly mourning the loss of the Buckeyes, or just having a light evening, or who-knows-what, but he is not alone. Me? I went to work and came home to an empty place to feel the hollowness of the last minutes of 2025. I'm still angry. I'm still bitter. It's moments like this I feel like therapy isn't working for me. Nothing has changed in my heart. I want to be grateful for what I have. My children are making their way in the world. They are likely spending the evening with their people. I have a roof over my head, heat, and food in the cabinets.  I have a job that pays the bills. So why am I crying?? 

Loneliness. My coworkers went home to their people. The guys who came in to relieve my shift had just come from their people. The shift that I relieved went home to their people. I watched the game largely by myself at work, in between tasks and tests. It was lonely with no one to cheer with or at. Cursing at referees alone is simply expending negative energy for no good reason. But here's that moment. The

loneliness that causes the bitter. The way I don't want to be. The spite and anger take over and I try to let it go because I know it doesn't help anything. But then, if I let it go, the tears still flow and for no "good" reason. Why am I crying if I've let the negativity go? Because it's still there. Still. Older people alone in their homes or apartments, are you bitter? Even those folks that say they want to be alone seem bitter.  When Gabrielle was just around a year old, we used to walk over to an older lady's home across the alley, to occasionally visit and chat. She belonged to the nearby Catholic church and I'd offer to take her over to the church when she couldn't make it herself. I think she was in her 80s back then, and she was alone. Her long time husband had passed and their dry cleaning business gone. She didn't seem bitter but I sensed her loneliness. I felt kind of like we let her down when we moved away. I didn't want her to feel so lonely. I wonder if bitterness crept in after we left. We've been having some weather tonight. Snow and sleet has a way of driving people to safety or into the comfort of the home. For me, it feels more

isolated. Be home. Be safe. Be alone. I'll have plenty to talk to my therapist about. How can I enjoy being alone? Enjoy my own company? (asked with great eye-rolling) It just leads me to think in the silence. Think about my sadness and anger. Mourn, again, my future loss. I think about how I can get past being the graying bitter woman that I don't want to be, but the blessings I try to count feel just out of reach. I chase them but they run too fast. I feel unwanted by all that is important to me. Please, keep the aging people in your lives from feeling like this. Visit or call. Don't send an email because hearing the voices of people you care about fills the void so much better. It feels more intentional.  Don't let them get

lonely, and isolated. Give them hope, and a purpose. And help them chase the bitterness away. 

I've been away.

 I've been away a lot lately: away physically, away emotionally. Away as myself. So much has crushed me in the last 2 years. It's a huge list: my career, my 'person', my house, my aging body, my country....just...everything. I've been dead inside for what seems like an eternity. 

I just came from my house. My beautiful house that I no longer live in, because I can't afford it. When I'm there I still feel safe and I know how all the dings and dents came to be. I know its secrets and its tales. I raised my beautiful children there; experienced triumphs and defeats there. All of us. Sometimes my house revives my dead insides, like today. Today it gave me big feelings. I had to turn off the radio on the way back to my "rental home" because my mind was full of what could have been. 

 Hanukkah starts tonight. I should be baking or frying or cleaning or something festive-like. I helped get some of the decorations out of the Hanukkah tote in advance of next Sunday's family get-together. I counted the kids' gifts. (Do they have enough to unwrap? Does someone have more than someone else?) The 28-year-old hanukkiah that plays Rock of Ages in the little music box under the base needed cleaned. I guess it was put away last year with candle wax still on it. Last year was a blur. We were a newly broken family last year. Thinking about it gives me tears -I think I'd rather be dead inside. 

I can't suss out the separation between the betrayal of my aging body and the betrayal of love by my lover.  Either way, I don't get a break. Emotionally, it is a violent journey, having to remake myself so I can come out on the other side alive. Sometimes I wake up and feel longing for my lost love. I think I can overcome and run home and make it work. Upon arrival, though, real life rushes back and the meter of feelings falls like a depleting battery. In my case, love just doesn't stop. It ebbs and flows, slowly farther and farther away. Tears pour in, or out, as the case may be. I want it back -I just...can't. I can't feel like this and live. I can't bombard someone else with the same ugly conversation day in and day out about how we should be selling our beautiful house to move to the next beautiful property with acreage. About what trip we can take with our new cache of spending money since we only have 1 kid in college. I just can't. So I sleep and wake up and want to run home and make it work. And then when I arrive, the hurt snuffs out the feelings. It's a bad record on repeat. Over and over. When does that end?? I just...can't.

So, I've been away because I'm trying to be someone else. A new job. A new place. A new sad lonely existence. I'm embarrassed to be in this position: a loser, a jilted old woman. I grew up under the philosophy that 'what goes around, comes around.' 'You make your bed and you lay in it.' I dedicated myself to my family and my career. My family always came first and my career after, but I was still dedicated to education. I can't figure it out. I remember the book title "When Bad Things Happen to Good People" and I wonder if my upbringing has betrayed me, too. Because I'm astray, I just stay away. 

If you can't say anything nice....

....don't say anything at all. I was taught that. Sometimes I live by that. Sometimes.

Lately, I just have nothing nice to say, about most topics. This has some to do with politics, but mostly about my own life. The last two years have been ugly. Ugly ugly. I began seeing a therapist to navigate these life changes, but I didn't want to become a bitter old woman. "How can I do all this and not become bitter?" "I'm tired of being unhappy." "When can I be happy?" I don't have tears every day now; I have tears many days, though. I have grief most days. I have fear most days. I am overwhelmed most days. 

I was also taught that what goes around, comes around. I truly believe (believed?) that and I wonder which thing I did in my distant past has brought these life changes around. What should I have changed, avoided, said, not said, did, not did, worn, not worn, felt, not felt.....it's a vicious circle. I'm not sure that philosophy is very productive or helpful but I can't help but believe it since it was ingrained in me by my grandmother from a young age.There are plenty of schmucks in the world who seem to live without ugly consequences for their misdeeds. How do they get a pass?

How can one work so hard to reach a goal, only to be tossed like a feather in the wind? It's unfair. It hurts. And it leaves me silent. No body truly truly wants to hear a sob-story from someone else, unless they're being paid. Enter, the therapist. It's not a satisfying, however, because the therapist can't really feel the rage and betrayal that a familiar friend can. They just sit and nod and parrot and take notes. A familiar friend can rage alongside you, can cry real tears with you. But even the best friends get tired with- and for you and of trying to help shoulder the ugly. It's really not fair to spread that awfulness around, even with that familiar friend who asks to help and support. They still get tired. Just like I'm tired. The therapist listens and listens while I process and rehash, but it's not as satisfying as I would like. "How can I reach a goal when the goal line picks up and moves away?" I keep re-living and re-hashing.

So, I just need to shut up. No one wants to hear the ugly details. No one wants to really know. It's sad, truly. And we wonder why there's such an epidemic of loneliness in the world. I'm lonely. I'm alone AND lonely. Everyone wants to stay out of everyone else's business, except when they're a keyboard warrior on social media, and no one wants to pick sides in a situation, except then they honestly don't have to buy in as a keyboard warrior on social media. So, we avoid our neighbors but barge in on international conversations we know nothing about. 

But, for those who ask, I speak carefully so as not to become a villain in my own story. And not tire everyone out. I'm just negative. All. The. Time. I don't like it - I just can't see the silver lining. I can't see the end of the tunnel. I can't find a blessing. "When will I be happy?" "When can I stop crying?"

My home is not my home. My career is not my career. My community turned out to not be my community. Words ring empty. Colors are dull. Loneliness is my mountain each day. To those who are getting their revenge on me: I hope you're happy.

Teachers Steel Themselves

 Teachers leave home early, and usually get home late. They often arrive to school early, well ahead of report time, and sometimes sit in their cars until the last possible minute out in the quiet parking lot. They sit...and breathe...and mentally prepare. They'll check Facebook or email, or anything else, while they think. They steel themselves for the day. They think ahead to what's likely to happen that day. Don't get us wrong. We love teaching children and being a part of the very genesis of their blossoming education. We love being their rock, we love being their inspiration, we love helping, we love that 'ah ha!' moment.

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I steel myself. I'll sometimes sit in the parking lot a few minutes to prepare. Just today, I'll prepare myself for the myriad emails I'll sift through. The communication is wonderful but it's like a fire hose. Education is about communication and it's unavoidable. It's unavoidably necessary to do our jobs -to make sure we're all on the same page. But it's like a fire hose: it's on intensely and then it's off. And when it's off, you sit and wonder if you're suddenly missing something important and why are you not in the loop. And just when you think there's concern, it's on again. And last night a parent messaged me asking whether there is school today. Of course there is school! The kid told the parent there was a schedule change and that there was no school. I'll double check that I responded with a smiley face.

I steel myself. I'll sit in my car before I enter the building. I think. My computer is not charged because the power went out yesterday afternoon and it won't charge well anyway because the charging port is worn out and loose from overuse, and I catch myself and feel obligated to turn to positive self-talk to be grateful that I have a school provided laptop to work from. Some teachers don't have that privilege. It's exhausting to constantly monitor my metacognition.

I steel myself. As I breathe and think ahead to the day, I wonder if my supervisor will drop another unexpected bomb on me today. The stress of the anticipation is...well, stressful. I wonder what will happen, what will change, how will this effect my position, my caseload, my attitude, my ability to do my job, to succeed, whether I appear competent or incompetent. My superior wants me gone; I'm convinced. Why? Not sure. They don't like me? I'm not good enough? I'm not the right "person" (I'll leave that up to your interpretation)? Of course, the super hasn't responded to my communications so maybe that's good? Unknown. It's the unknown. And I think one of my principals doesn't like that I'm in her building because I create "problems". I'm another person to work around and another layer of compliance to consider. I don't know her well and she doesn't know me well. I have to monitor my thinking to avoid spiraling out of control and an anxious tizzy.

I steel myself. My colleagues are wonderful, for the most part. In every work environment, there's always people you wonder about. Teaching is no different. I don't have many of those but for those I suspect, I avoid. I get a feeling they want me gone, too. I'm not...something...enough. I don't have the right background, I don't make the decisions they make about students, I don't cause enough change fast enough for them to view me as effective. It's always something, isn't it? "Well, look at me, I have this certification and training! What's wrong with you? Why aren't you as good at this as I?" No one ever directly says this, but when we're in a meeting with 10 other teachers, it comes out in sideways comments. I feel like I am constantly in graduate school, trying to compete, to know enough to be effective, to cause the change that needs to be changed. I guess 10 years of schooling isn't enough yet. I do like school (when I have the time to dedicate to it) --I want to be up-to-date on the latest and greatest research about how to teach effectively. I have to learn how to motivate the unmotivatable, how to get kids to say what they don't want to say, get them to act in the way they refuse, how to plan for the unplannable, organize spontaneous occurrences, be ready to help support their social or emotional state, renew my license/certification, and most importantly, be better than that colleague who wants your job or just doesn't want YOU to have your job.

I steel myself. I think about the student who has such a bright future but just can't get their sh*t together. I think about the kid who I want to take home so he/she can have someone who loves and cares about whether they are wearing pants or shorts and has a coat when it's 30°. I think about never being able to hug a child who desperately needs a hug after they fall down. One of the most fulfilling feelings is when a child chooses to hug you for just being the one in the hallway, saying good morning or goodbye. I get to stand and soak it in. It's a small reward that I'm allowed to let happen because *they* initiated it -and I'm always cognizant to make sure it's on camera. Proof that I didn't do it! It's exhausting to always monitor all the moving parts of these relationships. I rarely blame students for their position. The gulf between kids who have their sh*t together and those who don't is widening. Yes, some of it is fallout from Covid, but mostly it's their homelife. The swing to child self-governance is not always a good thing and some of the families are hanging on by a thread. Much of that is due to the widening gulf between those who are "comfortable" economically and those who aren't. I don't want to regress to the 1950s but for a family to have one parent who has the time to spend with their children (and not be on their phones!) and still have economic stability would really help these children. My mind wanders....I was lucky to have had my own children before cell phones became necessary and incorporated into every living minute. I read, spoke to, sang to, played with, exercised with, and taught my own children before they stepped foot into formal schooling and their educational starting place was higher than many of the children I'm working with.....who will I rescue from an anxious crying jag in the restroom? Who will have a meltdown because they were asked to sit down and start banging their head on the cement block wall? Who will vape in the restroom? Who will get angry and flip over a desk? Daily occurrences. 

I steel myself. As I'm walking into the building, I'm thinking about the new language in proposed state house bill that would remove the requirement for case load sizes and make local schools less responsible for hiring the number of needed teachers to do their jobs effectively. Our state is actively working against schools and against education. They don't want to financially support these institutions even though we, as a society DECADES AGO, determined that an educated population is better for all. No, all private schools are not the answer. No, all charter schools are not the answer. I have worked in both. Some work but many do not. The state seemingly doesn't care since utilizing private and charter schools means less regulation for them to monitor. Those schools don't need to provide enough certified teachers and can hire anyone off the street (with an easy-to-obtain alternative licensure) to educate children. Been there, seen it, and had to leave it. Politicians making decisions about education is hurting us and the outlook appears more grim. Where are the true experts making effective decisions about a societal segment that directly effects our future outcomes more than any other? My caseload is over 50 kids. Isn't that enough? How can I be effective? The blame shifts to me. I need to be better, more organized, more time planning and creating appealing lessons, more assessments, more, more, more. Do more with less. Be the expert in a 15-minute-long lesson and affect the change that needs changed.

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Walking inside the building, then another building, and another.....

I smile at the makeshift memorial for a beloved roly-poly at the base of a walkway support pole. I breathe in the fresh (for now) air streaming towards me from across the football field and up the hill. I hear a snare drum from inside the brick walls. I love that the gym teacher pulls her teaching curtain happily in the cafegymatorium to contain the flying balls. The laughter that fills the chicken-manure scented air that rips around the corner of the elementary is heavenly.

Do I have everything I need to teach?  It all has to be contained in one backpack: my computer, my glasses (!), my badge, a box with pencils, markers, postits, highlighters, a notebook for paper or other transported documents...what else?  I don't have a dedicated teaching space or even a desk in two of the buildings -there isn't room. I can't keep my crap anywhere. I carry a portable stool for sitting with students in the classroom. It seems I end up with planning time when my materials are in another building. I'm so glad I get 63 cents a mile....not. Two miles from one of the district to the other, a full $1.26 per day doesn't cover the wear and tear on my car or my body. There goes the negative thinking; I have to look at the bright side -at least I get mileage! I'm reminded that I need to fill in my mileage document. 

What day is it? Day of the week? It's Thursday. Rotational letter day? Is it an H day or and E day? Is there a fire drill? or a lock down drill? I have to check my computer that's in my backpack, when I can find a horizontal space to look. Wait, who do I see first today? It was a great idea of mine to attach my weekly schedule on the top of my computer so I don't have to open it to remember it ALL. 

Am I smiling? I feel obligated to smile all the time: I don't want to look mean, I want to be approachable by students and other teachers, I want to look like I'm enjoying my job, I want to cover the anxiety, I want to "fake it 'til I make it".  Is my hair brushed? Is my blouse buttoned properly?

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Teachers are just starting their day.

I love old maps.

 I recently learned about and experimented with the website from the United States Geological Survey (usgs.gov). They have an area on their website called Topoview and it lets you overlay old maps onto current maps. I like the road maps that let you "look back into the past".  I have wondered a lot about U.S. Route 23. I remember, as a young girl, traveling north on 23 for what seemed like an eternity; the four of us crammed in the back seat legs touching. Ick. I would stare out the car window, taking in the countryside. Even now, some 40-odd years later, I have flashes or images or feeling the endless ka-thump of the seams in the roadway. My daughter lives in Toledo now and I'm in the Columbus area so I travel up U.S. 23 and every time I take that drive, I look off to the side of the roads and see small towns or homesteads and I clearly remember some sights that I can no longer see on 23. And I know we did not travel as fast as we do on modern roads. Of course, modern U.S. 23 reveals an attractive high-speed route 15 to I75 starting in Carey, Oh with a speed limit of 70 mph.  I was in the car on those roads in the mid-1970s and I can't imagine we went over 55 mph in our 1963 Chevrolet Impala or whatever that red rocket model was, and using 2/40 air conditioning. If you don't know what that is, you'll have to Google it.

I decided to look back at the route U.S. 23 took in the 1960s, before many of the small-town bypasses were constructed. I overlaid maps from about 1960-1962 onto modern road maps to create the route from north Columbus to the Michigan line. It seems like a lot of changes happened in the mid to late 1960s. If you are someone who is old enough to be on the roads at that time, you might remember this route. I'd kind of like to ride my motorcycle on this route up to my daughter's house. To be fair, when we drove up 23, we were usually headed to Cedar Point or East Harbor Park and my mom said we took Route 4 through Bucyrus on those trips.

Here's the map of 1960s U.S. Route 23 from north Columbus to the Michigan state line. If you like, copy the link into a browser window for a copy of the map:

https://www.google.com/maps/d/u/0/edit?mid=1TtJYfTdBrovLhB5ihDLs9FgI5ivxg7w&usp=sharing

To navigate it, download the GPX file here: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1ubhlLwiI0K4r-Gpen7mKdBzG0o1Z4neA/view?usp=drive_link

Enjoy your ride! 

***note: I haven't driven this map yet, so watch out for road changes or mistakes!